Fic: Accountability (Nakajima/Kaoru, Omi/Kaoru) and Belonging (Omi/Kaoru)
Sorry for the long absence, finals distracted me from writing. Since it was such a long one I now come bearing two fics.
Title: Accountability
Pairing: Nakajima/Kaoru, Omi/Kaoru
Rating: NC-17
- For 15pairings, #11 inconsequential/unconsensual.
He couldn't remember how it had started. There was no love lost between them, and that hadn't changed even now. He wondered about it sometimes, about what had led them both down this path, if he should've seen this coming, if he would've stopped it if he had. But he knew the answer to those questions, even if he didn't like them.
What they had wasn't gentle or kind, not at all sweet or caring. It was lust, simple desire for something he couldn't get any other way. On the days he felt especially guilty, he compared it to Omi's relationship with anything containing sugar. The man couldn't stop eating sweets even when asked; it was an addiction and an unhealthy one, but necessary to his sanity. But even though the explanation sounded pretty and convincing in his head, he knew that once the words passed his lips they would lose their magic.
He didn't even remember the first night with Nakajima. He'd been drunk, he knew that much, though he didn't remember why. He didn't even know when Nakajima had entered the scene or what he'd said, although it seemed that Nakajima understood him a little too well for his liking sometimes. The next clear memory he had was of him on his knees and the hacker pressing into him and then thrusting hard, over and over until his mind went numb with the pleasure. He remembers saying 'no' and remembers Nakajima not listening to him, making him take what he so desperately needed despite the protests of his mind. "You're a rapist," he'd accused Nakajima the morning after, clutching the sheets as if they would preserve his dignity. But the hacker had only smirked and asked, "Is it rape if the victim enjoys it?"
And he knew it wasn't.
===
Even though he tried not to, he often thought of Omi while Nakajima was fucking him through the mattress. There was always a lingering fear whenever he met up with the other man - fear of Omi finding out, of Nakajima crossing the lines they'd established, fear of his own desire sometimes, the need to be possessed and owned by someone stronger than him. Omi was safe, loved, and he couldn't help thinking that if it felt this good with someone he disliked how much better it would feel if Omi held his control between his hands to do with as he wished. But he couldn't ask that of Omi, because above all else he was afraid of seeing revulsion on his friend's face.
He didn't know how to explain to Omi that he hated the feeling of being protected and sheltered, that he wanted someone to break him and make him whole again. Making love with Omi was like the gentle spring rain while the nights he spent with Nakajima were more like a typhoon, and he needed both desperately.
===
They never talked. It wasn't that Nakajima didn't try occasionally; the hacker had known when he and Omi had been arguing and had inquired politely (for Nakajima) if he needed to talk about it. But Kaoru always stayed silent and after a few times Nakajima stopped trying. It was just as well; this was a business arrangement, nothing else, and personal discussions had no place in the bedroom.
On those nights when he did get into a fight with Omi, the sex would be especially wild, and he would be more demanding than usual. They drained him, the fights - Omi was never angry, only disappointed or disapproving, and it cut Kaoru more than his anger ever could. So he drained his own frustration into the nights with Nakajima, then went back to Omi calm and at ease and kissed him until the tension disappeared. They always ended up in bed, and Omi would push them both over the edge as many times as it took until they dropped to sleep. When he dared to think about it, Kaoru had to admit that he liked this method better than giving Omi the cold shoulder for a week.
===
He was on his back, legs in the air, knees forced roughly apart by a pair of strong hands. A tongue was running over his entrance and he bucked, but his plea was refused. His own hands went to his shaft in desperation and were slapped away, making him glare at the bespectacled face rising from between his legs. "This won't do," the hacker said as he slid off the bed, and Kaoru seriously considered giving the man a kick in the head. But then Nakajima turned back to him with several scarves in his hands, and the twitching of his cock made it impossible to say that the idea of being tied up held no appeal. The other man smirked as he tied Kaoru's hands to the bed.
Then he was being stradled, knees on either side of his ribcage, and Nakajima shifted until his cock was mere inches away from Kaoru's lips. "Suck," he said, and Kaoru did, not objecting when Nakajima fucked his mouth. "Spread," he said, and Kaoru's knees went wide apart, allowing Nakajima easy access. The thrusts went deep, lifting his hips off the bed each time, and for a time after his orgasm hit him he knew nothing but the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.
It was only later, when Omi commented on them, that he noticed the marks the scarves had left on his wrists, but when he explained they had been caused by his watch Omi smiled slightly, kissed the marks and applied ointment on them without another word.
===
The tension was constant and tangible, at least to him. Omi was quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that he recognized from the times Omi had been brooding about something. This was as close to depressed as Omi would ever come and it usually faded after a few days, so when the quiet stretched from a few days to a week and then two, the anxiety building up in Kaoru tripled. The visits to Nakajima were put on hold for a while until he found out what Omi was upset about. He didn't really think it could be him; he'd been careful, and Omi was no different. They still slept together, Omi still told him he loved him, and he still felt as happy in those arms as he ever had. But the doubt was there, so he prepared to be patient.
Except being patient was something he'd never been much good at, and his own frustration was showing after a mere week. Withdrawal symptoms, he realized, and after another week he caved and spent a few hours with his more aggressive lover. When he walked back into his room that day Omi looked no worse, his behaviour was no different, and Kaoru decided that, for the moment, he was safe.
===
He feels the bed shift as Nakajima turned on his side, letting a finger trail over his own still-heated flesh. "Are you alright?"
"Fine." Of course he was fine, why shouldn't he be?
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Kaoru turns away and slides off the bed and into his bathrobe within a minute. "We don't talk," he tells Nakajima fiercely and leaves the room before the man can say anything else.
They don't talk, because talking is what he does with Omi alone.
The public baths are empty and Kaoru sits down on one of the stools with a relieved sigh. But when he turns around to ask Omi for help with his hair, his only answer is the soft sloshing of water over the sides of the bath. The sigh turns into a choked sound muffled by the hands covering his face, the hands that stay there even as other people enter the room and voice their concerns about his state. But he doesn't respond because he only wants to talk to Omi, and since Omi is no longer there he will talk to no one.
===
Title: Belonging
Pairing: Omi/Kaoru
Rating: PG
- For 15pairings, #3 mercy/no mercy.
- Sequel to Accountability.
Ten years and the sight still took his breath away. His hands remembered the feel of that hair slipping through is fingers, his body remembered the slide of that pale skin against his. The feel of his lips and the sound of his voice, memories flooding back to him as if it was only yesterday that he'd locked them in the darkest corner of his mind.
"I didn't ask you to come so you could lurk in the doorway, you know." He tuned around slowly, not wanting to give the Chairman of Bell Liberty the satisfaction of knowing he'd been distracted, and gave him a mocking bow. "As you order, so I obey," he intoned, enjoying it when Endo almost choked on his wine. "If you blackmail someone so they will attend some function or the other, you can't expect them to seem eager about it, Chairman."
It earned him a glare. "Stop calling me that, Omi, we've been past these titles for years."
Omi covered his smirk with the glass of wine he'd picked up from one of the trays being carried about by waiters. "That was before you used your authority to bring me here. Friends don't generally do that to each other. Chairman." He took a sip, eyes wandering, hoping for a glimpse of that pale head one second and resolutely turning his eyes back to Endo the next. He cursed silently and gulped his wine down; maybe if he drank enough of the stuff it would get him through this evening with his sanity intact.
"Omi, are you even listening?"
The amused tone bothered him more than he would admit. "Not really. Were you saying anything important?"
Endo laughed quietly. "Only that Niwa seemed to be heading this way and that if you intended to avoid him you had better move. Hello, Niwa. having a good time?"
The former King of Bell Liberty grinned in agreement. "It's been a while, Endo. You're hanging around, right?" At Endo's nod, Niwa turned to Omi instead and slung an arm around the computer expert's shoulders. "I was actually here to drag you away from the company of much older men. Playing with kids your own age is really much better, Shichijou." Endo blanched, Omi smirked, and Niwa took his opportunity and began to drag Omi away from the crowds and to the open bar.
"Any preferences?" and Omi took the chance to order vodka, relishing the much stronger alcohol. "I haven't seen you in a few weeks. Is my father keeping you too busy to pick up the phone now?" He tossed back the rest of the vodka and shot Niwa a glare. "If this is going to turn into an interrogation I'll need a lot more alcohol, Niwa. What are you doing here anyway? This is the 'Class of 2007' reunion."
"I'm handling the security for today. You know how Endo is about these things, better safe than sorry. Not that I can complain really." Niwa twisted around on his stool to face Omi, conveniently blocking his view of the room while he was at it. "Seriously though, Shichijou, you should get out more. I'll start getting jealous of my dad if he hoards you all to himself." It was said with a wink, and Omi did not feel at all repentant when Niwa had to bend down to rub his shin.
He wasn't sure if Niwa had done this on purpose; he wouldn't put it past the man, but if he had then neither of them had known about it. With his back bent the room was visible once more, and the first thing he saw was the boy he lost his heart to so long ago. Except he wasn't a boy any longer and other than the hair and the colour of his skin, he didn't look much like how Omi remembered him.
Vibrant and alive, the body writhed beneath him
He heard Niwa talking but couldn't grasp the words, didn't turn to his friend until the latter's back was once more blocking the sight of his old lover. Niwa took one glance at him and turned around. "Ah, Kaoru-chan! Come sit, you look like you could use a drink."
those lips formed his name, panted it out
Niwa turned back to him with a grin. "Feels almost like old times, huh?"
a last shudder and their release hit them both like a storm.
The green eyes were flashing with anger, a sight Omi remembered well, and he turned his head away from the sight and back to his glass of courage. But he couldn't block his ears, and Kaoru's voice sounded so much like he remembered it that the pain of it was almost tangible.
"Is this why you dragged me here?", his childhood friend was saying, almost hissing, at the King who remained as composed and obnoxiously cheerful as he usually was. "You set this up when you knew-"
"I'm sorry, Kaoru-chan, the music is kind of loud. Come here so I can hear you better!" and Omi winced at the loud voice. He hasn't changed one bit, and while the thought should have been laced with anger he couldn't get past the amusement of the situation. "It's alright, Kaoru," he said quietly, already pushing back the stool. "I was leaving anyway. I hope both of you have a good time." He heard Niwa objecting but skilfully evaded the hand that tried to grab him and began to walk away, leaving his past behind.
"...Omi."
The voice was quiet, too quiet, too broken for the proud man he'd known. Keepwalkingkeepwalkingkeepwalking. His feet stopped and he turned around, eyes latching onto a face that was paler than normal and a body that had lost too much weight. His hair lacked the luster it had at school and was pulled back in an almost severe ponytail. Those green eyes that haunted his dreams looked haunted themselves, and his face - his face showed every one of the ten years, only tripled.
"I'll leave you two alone then and guard the door," and Omi understood the warning. If he tried to leave, or Kaoru tried to leave, they'd be dragged back and Niwa wouldn't be discrete about it either. "You're a bastard you know," he muttered as Niwa stood up to leave, but his friend only smiled, gave him a pat on the back and disappeared into the crowd.
Since neither of them seemed to have an idea of what to say, Omi went back to the bar and gestured for Kaoru to sit down. "Order whatever you like, all expenses paid courtesy of Niwa." Kaoru snorted and gave him an odd half-smile before asking for scotch, a request that Omi seconded. The next few minutes were spent sipping the drink. You're stalling, his head told him, and he knew he was. You've let it go, remember? but he wasn't sure of that anymore.
"How have you been?" and he repressed the urge to wince at the weak beginning. "I heard that your firm made you partner, congratulations." Kaoru nodded, whether in thanks or just to escape from needing to say anything Omi didn't know, but he kept on talking. "I've been doing well at work too. Niwa's father is a harsh taskmaster but the work is interesting, and he doesn't mind if I freelance on my own time. He doesn't mind the occasional hacking job either, not that he could prove it was me either way."
"You always were good at covering your tracks." Omi sipped and nodded, relieved to hear the other man speak, but the silence that fell after was still tense. Niwa owed him so much for this whole situation.
"It wasn't you, you know," he heard, and it took him a moment to understand that the topic of conversation had just been changed. It looked like the ghosts refused to stay quiet any longer tonight. "You were...perfect. Anyone's dream. But I am not. I tried to be, because you deserved that, but I couldn't."
"Kaoru, listen-" but then the head turned and those green eyes looked more alive than he'd seen them since they were both teenagers and he found himself stopping without knowing why.
"Let me say this, please," and it was the 'please' that did it, because Kaoru never used that word with him except in bed. "I went to him because I had urges, abnormal urges, and I couldn't burden you with them. I didn't want you to see how broken I really was, I was afraid I would drive you away. Except I did that anyway, didn't I?" He paused to finish the last of his scotch, fingers playing with the empty glass. "It wasn't because I didn't love you or because you did anything wrong. I certainly never felt anything for him. But at the time I thought that if he could satisfy these urges I would be free to...be normal with you.
"I know this doesn't mean much now, but I've never forgiven myself, and I am so sorry that I caused you that much pain."
He'd thought the explanation, the admission would ease something inside of him, would let him live without the memories continuously parading in front of his eyes. He'd always imagined that the apology would be the words that would release him from his curse, forgiveness granted from above, grant to start living again. But he felt the same as he had before he'd walked through the door tonight.
"I knew," he said slowly, pushing the half empty glass away. "I knew it wasn't that you didn't love me. I could see you did, could see it even before Bell Liberty." He rested his chin on his folded hands, ignoring the tiny hitch. "I even knew you were sorry. It was one of the signs, you know," and he turned to face Kaoru, "I could see you were feeling guilty and miserable about something. I just-"
"Please don't," voice choked, cracked, dead, "Don't forgive me, I don't deserve it. You should hate me Omi, for everything I did."
"But Kaoru," and his own was soft, gentle, sure, "I forgave you long ago. I only ever wanted your happiness, and if I couldn't provide that I had no right to be by your side." His head felt clearer than it had in years, and before he turned to go he placed one hand on top of Kaoru's head and let it slide gently over the bound hair. "You should take better care of yourself. I've never seen you with split hairs before."
He hadn't gone five paces when something stumbled into his back and latched onto his jacket. The form behind him was shuddering soundlessly and he waited, arms hanging uselessly at his side. "I've missed you," was whispered against his back. "I love you, I need you, I don't feel right without you," these and more and his back soaked up all the words and let them penetrate the rest of him. He turned around then and his arms went around Kaoru the same as they had more than ten years ago, and it felt natural and good and right to hold him, to be this man's comfort and support and his Knight. The words faded with, "Please, Omi," and turned to silent tears, and Omi stroked his friend's back and hair until the shudders subsided and his shirt felt wet. "I know," he murmured, "I know."
Title: Accountability
Pairing: Nakajima/Kaoru, Omi/Kaoru
Rating: NC-17
- For 15pairings, #11 inconsequential/unconsensual.
He couldn't remember how it had started. There was no love lost between them, and that hadn't changed even now. He wondered about it sometimes, about what had led them both down this path, if he should've seen this coming, if he would've stopped it if he had. But he knew the answer to those questions, even if he didn't like them.
What they had wasn't gentle or kind, not at all sweet or caring. It was lust, simple desire for something he couldn't get any other way. On the days he felt especially guilty, he compared it to Omi's relationship with anything containing sugar. The man couldn't stop eating sweets even when asked; it was an addiction and an unhealthy one, but necessary to his sanity. But even though the explanation sounded pretty and convincing in his head, he knew that once the words passed his lips they would lose their magic.
He didn't even remember the first night with Nakajima. He'd been drunk, he knew that much, though he didn't remember why. He didn't even know when Nakajima had entered the scene or what he'd said, although it seemed that Nakajima understood him a little too well for his liking sometimes. The next clear memory he had was of him on his knees and the hacker pressing into him and then thrusting hard, over and over until his mind went numb with the pleasure. He remembers saying 'no' and remembers Nakajima not listening to him, making him take what he so desperately needed despite the protests of his mind. "You're a rapist," he'd accused Nakajima the morning after, clutching the sheets as if they would preserve his dignity. But the hacker had only smirked and asked, "Is it rape if the victim enjoys it?"
And he knew it wasn't.
===
Even though he tried not to, he often thought of Omi while Nakajima was fucking him through the mattress. There was always a lingering fear whenever he met up with the other man - fear of Omi finding out, of Nakajima crossing the lines they'd established, fear of his own desire sometimes, the need to be possessed and owned by someone stronger than him. Omi was safe, loved, and he couldn't help thinking that if it felt this good with someone he disliked how much better it would feel if Omi held his control between his hands to do with as he wished. But he couldn't ask that of Omi, because above all else he was afraid of seeing revulsion on his friend's face.
He didn't know how to explain to Omi that he hated the feeling of being protected and sheltered, that he wanted someone to break him and make him whole again. Making love with Omi was like the gentle spring rain while the nights he spent with Nakajima were more like a typhoon, and he needed both desperately.
===
They never talked. It wasn't that Nakajima didn't try occasionally; the hacker had known when he and Omi had been arguing and had inquired politely (for Nakajima) if he needed to talk about it. But Kaoru always stayed silent and after a few times Nakajima stopped trying. It was just as well; this was a business arrangement, nothing else, and personal discussions had no place in the bedroom.
On those nights when he did get into a fight with Omi, the sex would be especially wild, and he would be more demanding than usual. They drained him, the fights - Omi was never angry, only disappointed or disapproving, and it cut Kaoru more than his anger ever could. So he drained his own frustration into the nights with Nakajima, then went back to Omi calm and at ease and kissed him until the tension disappeared. They always ended up in bed, and Omi would push them both over the edge as many times as it took until they dropped to sleep. When he dared to think about it, Kaoru had to admit that he liked this method better than giving Omi the cold shoulder for a week.
===
He was on his back, legs in the air, knees forced roughly apart by a pair of strong hands. A tongue was running over his entrance and he bucked, but his plea was refused. His own hands went to his shaft in desperation and were slapped away, making him glare at the bespectacled face rising from between his legs. "This won't do," the hacker said as he slid off the bed, and Kaoru seriously considered giving the man a kick in the head. But then Nakajima turned back to him with several scarves in his hands, and the twitching of his cock made it impossible to say that the idea of being tied up held no appeal. The other man smirked as he tied Kaoru's hands to the bed.
Then he was being stradled, knees on either side of his ribcage, and Nakajima shifted until his cock was mere inches away from Kaoru's lips. "Suck," he said, and Kaoru did, not objecting when Nakajima fucked his mouth. "Spread," he said, and Kaoru's knees went wide apart, allowing Nakajima easy access. The thrusts went deep, lifting his hips off the bed each time, and for a time after his orgasm hit him he knew nothing but the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.
It was only later, when Omi commented on them, that he noticed the marks the scarves had left on his wrists, but when he explained they had been caused by his watch Omi smiled slightly, kissed the marks and applied ointment on them without another word.
===
The tension was constant and tangible, at least to him. Omi was quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that he recognized from the times Omi had been brooding about something. This was as close to depressed as Omi would ever come and it usually faded after a few days, so when the quiet stretched from a few days to a week and then two, the anxiety building up in Kaoru tripled. The visits to Nakajima were put on hold for a while until he found out what Omi was upset about. He didn't really think it could be him; he'd been careful, and Omi was no different. They still slept together, Omi still told him he loved him, and he still felt as happy in those arms as he ever had. But the doubt was there, so he prepared to be patient.
Except being patient was something he'd never been much good at, and his own frustration was showing after a mere week. Withdrawal symptoms, he realized, and after another week he caved and spent a few hours with his more aggressive lover. When he walked back into his room that day Omi looked no worse, his behaviour was no different, and Kaoru decided that, for the moment, he was safe.
===
He feels the bed shift as Nakajima turned on his side, letting a finger trail over his own still-heated flesh. "Are you alright?"
"Fine." Of course he was fine, why shouldn't he be?
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Kaoru turns away and slides off the bed and into his bathrobe within a minute. "We don't talk," he tells Nakajima fiercely and leaves the room before the man can say anything else.
They don't talk, because talking is what he does with Omi alone.
The public baths are empty and Kaoru sits down on one of the stools with a relieved sigh. But when he turns around to ask Omi for help with his hair, his only answer is the soft sloshing of water over the sides of the bath. The sigh turns into a choked sound muffled by the hands covering his face, the hands that stay there even as other people enter the room and voice their concerns about his state. But he doesn't respond because he only wants to talk to Omi, and since Omi is no longer there he will talk to no one.
===
Title: Belonging
Pairing: Omi/Kaoru
Rating: PG
- For 15pairings, #3 mercy/no mercy.
- Sequel to Accountability.
Ten years and the sight still took his breath away. His hands remembered the feel of that hair slipping through is fingers, his body remembered the slide of that pale skin against his. The feel of his lips and the sound of his voice, memories flooding back to him as if it was only yesterday that he'd locked them in the darkest corner of his mind.
"I didn't ask you to come so you could lurk in the doorway, you know." He tuned around slowly, not wanting to give the Chairman of Bell Liberty the satisfaction of knowing he'd been distracted, and gave him a mocking bow. "As you order, so I obey," he intoned, enjoying it when Endo almost choked on his wine. "If you blackmail someone so they will attend some function or the other, you can't expect them to seem eager about it, Chairman."
It earned him a glare. "Stop calling me that, Omi, we've been past these titles for years."
Omi covered his smirk with the glass of wine he'd picked up from one of the trays being carried about by waiters. "That was before you used your authority to bring me here. Friends don't generally do that to each other. Chairman." He took a sip, eyes wandering, hoping for a glimpse of that pale head one second and resolutely turning his eyes back to Endo the next. He cursed silently and gulped his wine down; maybe if he drank enough of the stuff it would get him through this evening with his sanity intact.
"Omi, are you even listening?"
The amused tone bothered him more than he would admit. "Not really. Were you saying anything important?"
Endo laughed quietly. "Only that Niwa seemed to be heading this way and that if you intended to avoid him you had better move. Hello, Niwa. having a good time?"
The former King of Bell Liberty grinned in agreement. "It's been a while, Endo. You're hanging around, right?" At Endo's nod, Niwa turned to Omi instead and slung an arm around the computer expert's shoulders. "I was actually here to drag you away from the company of much older men. Playing with kids your own age is really much better, Shichijou." Endo blanched, Omi smirked, and Niwa took his opportunity and began to drag Omi away from the crowds and to the open bar.
"Any preferences?" and Omi took the chance to order vodka, relishing the much stronger alcohol. "I haven't seen you in a few weeks. Is my father keeping you too busy to pick up the phone now?" He tossed back the rest of the vodka and shot Niwa a glare. "If this is going to turn into an interrogation I'll need a lot more alcohol, Niwa. What are you doing here anyway? This is the 'Class of 2007' reunion."
"I'm handling the security for today. You know how Endo is about these things, better safe than sorry. Not that I can complain really." Niwa twisted around on his stool to face Omi, conveniently blocking his view of the room while he was at it. "Seriously though, Shichijou, you should get out more. I'll start getting jealous of my dad if he hoards you all to himself." It was said with a wink, and Omi did not feel at all repentant when Niwa had to bend down to rub his shin.
He wasn't sure if Niwa had done this on purpose; he wouldn't put it past the man, but if he had then neither of them had known about it. With his back bent the room was visible once more, and the first thing he saw was the boy he lost his heart to so long ago. Except he wasn't a boy any longer and other than the hair and the colour of his skin, he didn't look much like how Omi remembered him.
Vibrant and alive, the body writhed beneath him
He heard Niwa talking but couldn't grasp the words, didn't turn to his friend until the latter's back was once more blocking the sight of his old lover. Niwa took one glance at him and turned around. "Ah, Kaoru-chan! Come sit, you look like you could use a drink."
those lips formed his name, panted it out
Niwa turned back to him with a grin. "Feels almost like old times, huh?"
a last shudder and their release hit them both like a storm.
The green eyes were flashing with anger, a sight Omi remembered well, and he turned his head away from the sight and back to his glass of courage. But he couldn't block his ears, and Kaoru's voice sounded so much like he remembered it that the pain of it was almost tangible.
"Is this why you dragged me here?", his childhood friend was saying, almost hissing, at the King who remained as composed and obnoxiously cheerful as he usually was. "You set this up when you knew-"
"I'm sorry, Kaoru-chan, the music is kind of loud. Come here so I can hear you better!" and Omi winced at the loud voice. He hasn't changed one bit, and while the thought should have been laced with anger he couldn't get past the amusement of the situation. "It's alright, Kaoru," he said quietly, already pushing back the stool. "I was leaving anyway. I hope both of you have a good time." He heard Niwa objecting but skilfully evaded the hand that tried to grab him and began to walk away, leaving his past behind.
"...Omi."
The voice was quiet, too quiet, too broken for the proud man he'd known. Keepwalkingkeepwalkingkeepwalking. His feet stopped and he turned around, eyes latching onto a face that was paler than normal and a body that had lost too much weight. His hair lacked the luster it had at school and was pulled back in an almost severe ponytail. Those green eyes that haunted his dreams looked haunted themselves, and his face - his face showed every one of the ten years, only tripled.
"I'll leave you two alone then and guard the door," and Omi understood the warning. If he tried to leave, or Kaoru tried to leave, they'd be dragged back and Niwa wouldn't be discrete about it either. "You're a bastard you know," he muttered as Niwa stood up to leave, but his friend only smiled, gave him a pat on the back and disappeared into the crowd.
Since neither of them seemed to have an idea of what to say, Omi went back to the bar and gestured for Kaoru to sit down. "Order whatever you like, all expenses paid courtesy of Niwa." Kaoru snorted and gave him an odd half-smile before asking for scotch, a request that Omi seconded. The next few minutes were spent sipping the drink. You're stalling, his head told him, and he knew he was. You've let it go, remember? but he wasn't sure of that anymore.
"How have you been?" and he repressed the urge to wince at the weak beginning. "I heard that your firm made you partner, congratulations." Kaoru nodded, whether in thanks or just to escape from needing to say anything Omi didn't know, but he kept on talking. "I've been doing well at work too. Niwa's father is a harsh taskmaster but the work is interesting, and he doesn't mind if I freelance on my own time. He doesn't mind the occasional hacking job either, not that he could prove it was me either way."
"You always were good at covering your tracks." Omi sipped and nodded, relieved to hear the other man speak, but the silence that fell after was still tense. Niwa owed him so much for this whole situation.
"It wasn't you, you know," he heard, and it took him a moment to understand that the topic of conversation had just been changed. It looked like the ghosts refused to stay quiet any longer tonight. "You were...perfect. Anyone's dream. But I am not. I tried to be, because you deserved that, but I couldn't."
"Kaoru, listen-" but then the head turned and those green eyes looked more alive than he'd seen them since they were both teenagers and he found himself stopping without knowing why.
"Let me say this, please," and it was the 'please' that did it, because Kaoru never used that word with him except in bed. "I went to him because I had urges, abnormal urges, and I couldn't burden you with them. I didn't want you to see how broken I really was, I was afraid I would drive you away. Except I did that anyway, didn't I?" He paused to finish the last of his scotch, fingers playing with the empty glass. "It wasn't because I didn't love you or because you did anything wrong. I certainly never felt anything for him. But at the time I thought that if he could satisfy these urges I would be free to...be normal with you.
"I know this doesn't mean much now, but I've never forgiven myself, and I am so sorry that I caused you that much pain."
He'd thought the explanation, the admission would ease something inside of him, would let him live without the memories continuously parading in front of his eyes. He'd always imagined that the apology would be the words that would release him from his curse, forgiveness granted from above, grant to start living again. But he felt the same as he had before he'd walked through the door tonight.
"I knew," he said slowly, pushing the half empty glass away. "I knew it wasn't that you didn't love me. I could see you did, could see it even before Bell Liberty." He rested his chin on his folded hands, ignoring the tiny hitch. "I even knew you were sorry. It was one of the signs, you know," and he turned to face Kaoru, "I could see you were feeling guilty and miserable about something. I just-"
"Please don't," voice choked, cracked, dead, "Don't forgive me, I don't deserve it. You should hate me Omi, for everything I did."
"But Kaoru," and his own was soft, gentle, sure, "I forgave you long ago. I only ever wanted your happiness, and if I couldn't provide that I had no right to be by your side." His head felt clearer than it had in years, and before he turned to go he placed one hand on top of Kaoru's head and let it slide gently over the bound hair. "You should take better care of yourself. I've never seen you with split hairs before."
He hadn't gone five paces when something stumbled into his back and latched onto his jacket. The form behind him was shuddering soundlessly and he waited, arms hanging uselessly at his side. "I've missed you," was whispered against his back. "I love you, I need you, I don't feel right without you," these and more and his back soaked up all the words and let them penetrate the rest of him. He turned around then and his arms went around Kaoru the same as they had more than ten years ago, and it felt natural and good and right to hold him, to be this man's comfort and support and his Knight. The words faded with, "Please, Omi," and turned to silent tears, and Omi stroked his friend's back and hair until the shudders subsided and his shirt felt wet. "I know," he murmured, "I know."